


crazy 'bout a sharp dressed man

by anirondack



Series: 10 Kinks Challenge [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Also Some Skating Stuff, Blow Jobs, Clothed Sex, M/M, Public Blow Jobs, Semi-Public Sex, Suit Kink, Suit Sex, Suits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-26 12:28:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9896492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anirondack/pseuds/anirondack
Summary: Yuuri shoves him back into the wall and presses their bodies together, running his fingers up Victor’s neck and dragging nails along his scalp. Victor lets out a loud but startled moan, then manages to get a grip on Yuuri’s shoulders and pushes him back a little. “Yuuri, what…?”“You look,” Yuuri says, flushed. “Very good. In that suit.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the 10 Kinks Challenge. Kinks are "unusual clothing"/"fully clothed" and "inappropriate location"/"public or semi-public sex".
> 
> i'm ignoring how victor told yakov he was making his comeback for russian nationals because that's fucking absurd and even victor can't get back into shape, choreograph two new programs, and get costumes made in three weeks. so he's making his comeback at worlds.
> 
> the title is from a zz top song. wanna make something of it

“But I hate press conferences,” Victor whines. He brushes his bangs out of his eyes and pouts.

Yakov is unimpressed. “It’s been twelve years, Vitya. You know how to do a press conference.”

“But they’re so  _boring!_ And what am I supposed to say? I took half a season off and now I’m back.”

“There is plenty to say about that,” Yakov growls. “I’m looking forward to hearing some of the answers myself."

“But Yakov–”

Yakov cuffs him lightly on the head, making Victor’s hair fluff up. “Just because you’re not competing in Europeans doesn’t mean you’re not speaking after Europeans. Yurochka will win gold and do his interview, and then afterwards, so will you, if you want me to consider your submission for Worlds.”

Victor rolls his eyes and pouts some more, but Yakov just grunts and turns away to go yell at someone else.

And so Europeans roll around. Yuuri is fresh off his gold at Japanese nationals and staying with Victor for a month and a half in Russia - they’re making the move permanent after the Four Continents in February, but Yuuri needs practice time and so does Victor, so Yuuri gets a guest ID badge for Yubileyny Skate Club and comes to training every day. They get event tickets to Europeans and Victor buys plane tickets to Slovakia because the FFKK won’t foot the bill for them when they’re not competing, and Yuri makes faces at them when he passes them in the hotel they’re all staying at but is secretly glad that they’re there. Victor knows because he sees Yuri watching them when they attend the senior men’s practice sessions. They lock eyes and then Yuri snarls and looks away, but Victor just laughs and loops his arm a little tighter around Yuuri’s waist.

(Yuri wasn’t happy about Victor’s press conference either. He shouted at Yakov that it would ruin whatever happens at Europeans and Yakov shouted back that Victor already ruins everything and that it’ll be Yuri’s name on the gold medal and Yuri’s name on the Wikipedia page so it doesn’t matter anyway. Victor watched them, amused, as he skated basic figures and enjoyed the feeling of back crossovers.)

Yuri skates Agape nearly perfectly in the short program. His score is about five points off his world record from the Grand Prix final, but it’s still comfortably above everyone else by about seven points. Victor and Yuuri stand in the bleachers and cheer for him and Yuri looks scathing as he steps off the ice and stomps over to the kiss and cry.

The next day is a whirl of sightseeing and wandering around Bratislava, holding hands with Yuuri and buying him nice things. Yuuri has a scarf wrapped around his neck, almost up to his mouth, but Victor sees the corners of a smile peeking out from underneath the wool and his heart melts.

The men’s free program is the next day and Yuri wins that too, surprising no one. What does surprise people is that he falls toward the end of the program– even Yuri looks surprised when he hits the ground much harder than usual. He’s baffled for about a tenth of a second, and then he’s getting up again and slotting himself back into his program, but Victor sees Yakov frown, worried.

“I hope he’s okay,” Yuuri says softly. His head is on Victor’s shoulder and his hand is tucked in the crook of Victor’s arm. “That fall looked awkward.”

“I think Yurio is growing,” Victor says. “His costume doesn’t fit as well as it did even a month ago.”

“Maybe,” Yuuri says. “He’d better not push himself too hard to catch up again.”

They both know that he will, so Victor doesn’t say anything, and they both stand and applaud as Yuri finishes his free skate and steps off the rink with a bit of a limp. Yuuri throws a small stuffed cat he’d bought yesterday onto the rink.

They take Yuri and Georgi out for dinner afterwards, because Yuri can’t legally drink in Slovakia and he’ll probably get a glass of champagne at the gala the next night. Yuri inhales his food and scowls at Yuuri and Victor as Yuuri accepts a bite off of Victor’s fork, and then complains loudly about the scoring and the skater from France who came second and Chris who came in third and how Georgi won’t stop texting and the suit he has to wear to the press conference in the afternoon.

“Why can’t we just wear our jackets?” he demands of Yakov, then jabs a finger at Victor. “He did it!”

“Because it’s not the last day of the competition,” Yakov reminds him tiredly. “Ladies free skate is tomorrow. They’ll interview in their jackets.”

“It’s a shame, Mila looks good in a suit,” Georgi quips, then immediately turns his attention back to his phone.

“You’d have to change for the gala anyway. Don’t complain,” Yakov says. “Eat this bread, you’re the one who asked for a third loaf.” He picks up the loaf of bread from its basket and drops it onto Yuri’s plate. Yuri seems to inflate a little bit with the desire to yell, but he just hisses his argument at Yakov while Yakov watches him dully and doesn’t engage.

“Are we going to the gala?” Yuuri asks Victor. “We’re not competing. I’m not even supposed to be here.”

“Of course we are! Who wouldn’t want to see you?” Victor says brightly. “I’m sure they’ll have no problem letting _gold medalist Katsuki Yuuri_ in.” He beams at Yuuri and Yuuri blushes, but smiles shyly back, which is a noted improvement over how Yuuri used to just blush and then look away.

“Why is Katsudon coming?” Yuri demands, cutting off his own thought.

“Because it’ll be fun!” Victor says. “And if I’m going, who else will I dance with? You?”

Yuri opens his mouth, but no words come out. Yuuri snorts softly with laugher and takes a sip of wine to cover his smile.

“Yakov!” Yuri says.

Yakov just shrugs. “Someone has to keep Vitya out of trouble, and I certainly don’t want to.”

“And I’m not doing it again,” Georgi mutters.

“And you think _Katsudon_ will?”

Yuuri goes a little pink, but while Yakov and Yuri start arguing again, he just casts Victor another shy smile and Victor returns it with the voltage turned all the up.

The women’s press conference is shortly after the women’s free skate, so they make plans to go to that. All of the press conferences are actually after the women’s free skate, except for the ice dancing ones, which were yesterday. After that, Victor has to go in front of reporters and make official statements, and after _that_ , there’s the gala. After  _that_ , the next day, there’s the winners’ exhibition skates, but Yakov had told Victor that he was not allowed to skip five whole days of practice and that had trickled down to Yuuri, so they’re leaving in the morning, and Yakov and Yuri and Georgi won’t be back until the day after.

Mila wins gold by a couple points. The Italian skater, Sara, who Yuuri knows, gets silver and beams at everyone in the crowd except for her brother, who hovered just outside the kiss and cry while she waited for her score. Victor doesn’t know the bronze medalist, a woman from Latvia, but she seems very stern in her performance and then very weepy in the kiss and cry when she realizes that she’s going to medal. Victor smiles and watches and claps as they slide out the podium spots and the Russian national anthem blares out over the loudspeakers. Mila sees them and waves, then raises her bouquet in the air and grins as television cameras zoom in on her. Victor sees Yakov with the other two coaches, behind the spectacle. Yakov looks quietly proud.

They go back to their hotel room after that to get ready. Victor showers first, because he’s faster, and while Yuuri takes his turn, he gets dressed. They don’t have matching suits, but they are complementary, now that Yuuri has a real Italian-made suit and a decent tie that Victor had bullied Yuuri into letting him buy him. It’s deep blue, with a solid black tie and two buttons and edges so sharp that Yuuri would probably cut himself on them. Victor’s own suit is black, three piece with a neatly tailored vest and a matching red tie and pocket square over a white shirt. Yuuri had joked that the combination would make him look a little bit like a bond villain, so Victor does bad American accents whenever he takes it out and Yuuri’s face glows when he laughs.

“Yuuri! Hurry up, we have to leave soon!” Victor calls, then thumps the bathroom door lightly. “You still have to get dressed!”

“Okay, okay, sorry!” The water turns up a little, and then shuts off after a minute. Victor looks at himself in the mirror, smoothing his hair down, as Yuuri emerges, wrapped in two towels. “Victor do you kn– oh.”

“Hmm?” Victor looks over and straightens up. Yuuri blinks at him several times, then squints, and then his eyes widen a little. “Yes, Yuuri?”

“Uh,” Yuuri says. His eyes flick down along the long, thin lines of Victor’s body, and then back up. “What?”

Victor’s eyebrows raise. “Get dressed, Yuuri,” he reminds him gently. “We have to be downstairs in fifteen minutes.”

“Uh,” Yuuri says again. “Right.” He turns around and walks into a chair, then stumbles a little as he goes to the closet for his own suit. Victor chuckles quietly, then sits down on the bed and watches Yuuri pull on clean underwear and then neatly ironed pants.

“Yuuri, you’ll look so good at the gala tonight,” Victor says wistfully.

“ _I’ll look_ – have you seen _you_?” Yuuri says incredulously.

“I have. I look very good too. But I’ll have _you_ to look at,” Victor says.

Yuuri blushes again as he zips up his pants and buckles his belt. He quickly towels off his hair again, then pulls his shirt over his shoulders and starts to button it.

“Here. Let me help.” Victor rises up off the bed and slips Yuuri’s jacket off of its coat hanger, then grabs the tie. Once Yuuri has buttoned his shirt up all the way, Victor steps in front of him and wraps the tie around the back of Yuuri’s neck. Yuuri’s eyes go wide again and Victor sees his throat bob as he swallows. He touches one fingertip to Yuuri’s neck and Yuuri inhales sharply through his nose. Victor grins a little, then starts tying Yuuri’s tie. Yuuri stands deathly still, hardly daring to breathe, until Victor smoothes the tie down and hands Yuuri his jacket. “Would you like me to do this part too?”  
“Uh, no, I got it, it’s okay,” Yuuri stammers, then takes the jacket and swings it around his shoulders. He pulls it on and buttons the top button and gropes around the bedside table until he finds his glasses, then pushes them up his nose. Victor feels like his own breath has been stolen from his lungs - Yuuri looks at him, a bit nervously, and Victor has to step forward and wrap his arms around Yuuri.

“Yuuri, you look stunning.”

“I mean, it’s okay,” Yuuri mutters.

“How many people will try to steal you away tonight?” Victor murmurs into Yuuri’s shoulder.

“Not as many as will try to steal Mila, probably,” Yuuri says dryly.

Victor laughs. “Don’t sell yourself short. Now come on, shoes. We don’t want to be late.” Yuuri nods, but he just looks at Victor until Victor huffs out a sigh and gets his shoes for him. “Yuuri, do you want me to put your shoes on for you?”

“No, sorry, no.” Yuuri sits on the bed and quickly puts his shoes on and ties them tightly, then stands up again. He brushes the wrinkles out of his jacket and Victor holds out his hand, so Yuuri takes it. “Okay. I think I’m ready.”

“Phone,” Victor says.

“Right.” Yuuri digs his phone out of his jeans and slips it into his jacket pocket, and then Victor tugs him into his side and holds his own phone up. “What–?”

“Pre-conference picture!” Victor says brightly, then snaps a couple of pictures. Yuuri isn’t smiling in half of them – he mostly just looks startled and damp, but at the end of Victor’s camera roll, there are a couple Instagram-worthy ones. “Perfect. Okay, come on!”

He takes Yuuri’s hand and pulls him toward the door. Yuuri trots after him, and they get on the elevator with a few other people who clearly recognize them and have much the same expression that Yuuri has on their faces. Victor looks at all of them with a blithe smile and leans into Yuuri’s side. Yuuri squeezes his hand and Victor’s heart flutters gently in his chest.

The conference room is a small ballroom in the hotel, and they shuffle into the back rows. The women’s press conference has started already, and the three medal winners sit at a table with a screen full of sponsorship logos hovering ominously behind them. The woman from Latvia is talking about her short program right now; Mila is sitting in the middle looking a little sweaty and very pleased; Sara is sitting next to her and her eyes keep drifting from the Latvian skater to Mila and then sharply back again.

Yakov is a few rows ahead of them and off to the side with Yuri on one side and Georgi - who didn’t really come close to medaling - and Georgi’s new girlfriend - who is basically female Georgi - on the other. Victor waves and grins and Yakov scowls and jerks his head up toward the front of the room. Victor rolls his eyes and looks back, and then glances at Yuuri, who looks away just before Victor’s gaze falls on him.

“Yuuri, are you alright?” Victor whispers.

“Me? Yeah, I’m okay. I’m fine,” Yuuri says.

“Yuuriiiii.”

“Victorrrrr,” Yuuri whispers back. One corner of his mouth lifts a little and Victor relaxes and smiles and throws an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders.

He does try to pay attention to the press conference, but Yuuri keeps shifting around and crossing his legs and running his fingers through his own hair. Victor has a difficult time not constantly looking at Yuuri at the best of times, but right now, it’s impossible to keep his attention on the table at the front of the room. He leans over and presses his lips to Yuuri’s forehead, right as people start clapping, and Yuuri sits up very straight, like he’s startled. He looks at Victor, and then at the front of the room, where the three medalists are standing up and shuffling closer together and lit up by camera flashes.

“Oh, it’s over?”

“Yes, it just finished. Yurio is up next.”

As if he heard his name, Yuri stands up with some prodding from Yakov and is whisked away by a PA to the side of the room. Victor sees the two other medalists already standing in a corner, talking to each other. Chris sees him and waves and Victor smiles at him and waves back, then gives him a thumbs up. Chris returns it, and Victor politely pretends not to see when he lowers his gaze and his smile falls away.

Yuri looks absurd sitting in the middle of two much taller skaters. His hair is pulled back and his shoulders are hunched and he looks altogether unhappy to be there. Journalists throw questions to Chris and French Skater That Victor Doesn’t Know, and then start asking questions of Yuri.

To Yuri’s credit, he answers them well. Victor wonders if Lilia has been giving Yuri public speaking lessons as well as ballet lessons. He never smiles, but he answers honestly and doesn’t swear and even compliments French Skater’s free program. Victor feels proud of him, which is kind of a strange feeling to have toward Yuri when they’re not on the ice.

In the corner of his eye, Victor sees Yuuri’s gaze on him. He turns his head toward Yuuri a little bit and Yuuri hurriedly looks away, then squirm again. Victor tries to listen to Chris’s answer about… some question, probably retirement, that’s all you get asked about once you hit twenty-three, but Yuuri can’t sit still and Victor can’t pay attention to anything else.

“Yuuri,” Victor says. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Yuuri does a very good impression of a gaping fish for a moment, and then abruptly stands up. “Come with me.” He takes Victor’s hand and pulls him up, and then turns and quickly walks out of the ballroom. Victor is dragged along behind him, trying to keep up, but Yuuri is walking fast and bobbing around a few people who are coming in late and barreling straight out the door. He doesn’t say anything as they cross the hall to the staircase door and then Yuuri elbows it open, drags Victor through it, and knees it shut.

“Yuuri–?” Victor says, and then Yuuri’s mouth is on him. Yuuri shoves him back into the wall and presses their bodies together, running his fingers up Victor’s neck and dragging nails through his hair. Victor lets out a loud but startled moan, then manages to get a grip on Yuuri’s shoulders and pushes him back a little. “Yuuri, what…?”

“You look,” Yuuri says, flushed. “Very good. In that suit.”

“I– what?”

“I couldn’t stop myself.” Yuuri lunges forward and kisses him again, fingers curling into the lapels of Victor’s suit jacket. Victor’s fingertips press into Yuuri’s shoulders and he feels his knees get a little weak. Yuuri bites his lower lip, then pulls back the barest fraction of an inch to mumble, “I wanted to do that since I got out of the shower.”

“You should have said something,” Victor says breathlessly.

“I’m saying something.” Yuuri pulls Victor forward by the lapels this time, crushing their mouths together and making Victor bend forward a little. Victor’s hands settle on Yuuri’s waist, because it’s all he can do to hold onto Yuuri when suddenly his heartbeat is threatening to burst out of his chest. “God, Victor…”

“Yuuri, there’s–” Victor breaks the kiss, and then his breath stutters when Yuuri starts licking at his neck, just over the collar of his shirt. “The rest of the press conference. Yurio–”

“It’s filmed,” Yuuri mutters. “And you’ll be back soon anyway.”

“I have to– _ah_ –”

“You’ll be back for your turn,” Yuuri promises, and then sinks down to his knees.

It’s Victor’s turn to do the fish impression. He stares down at Yuuri, who looks back up at him with dark and determined eyes for a moment before he starts undoing Victor’s belt buckle.

“Yuuri, I–”

“Do you want me to stop?” Yuuri asks, hands stilling on the thick leather around Victor’s suit pants.

Victor stares down at him, then gives a small shake of his head.

Yuuri smiles, a very performance-like smile that reminds Victor that _Eros_ is going to be performed again for him in less than a month. “I’ll be fast.”

He finishes with the belt and doesn’t even pull it out of its loops, just pushes the two halves aside. He unbuttons and unzips Victor’s pants and tugs the front down until he can reach in and get to Victor’s cock. Victor’s been too shocked to get hard, but Yuuri’s making it very easy now to get there, and before Victor can say anything else, Yuuri gives his cock a few pumps and then takes half of it into his mouth.

“ _Oh_ ,” Victor chokes out, and the back of his head hits the wall hard. “ _Yuuri–_ ”

Yuuri hums, and that hum travels down Victor’s cock to his balls and makes its home there, making his whole body feel like it’s vibrating for a moment. Victor’s hand finds Yuuri’s hair and squeezes a tight handful and tugs lightly. Yuuri hums again, and then takes advantage of the fact that Victor’s not fully hard yet by sucking the entire length of Victor’s cock into his mouth. Victor gasps loudly, then bucks forward, and Yuuri doesn’t even choke.

Victor looks down again and curses because Yuuri looks too beautiful to stay quiet about it. His hands are vice grips on Victor’s hips and his knees are spread apart a little – but Victor can’t see if Yuuri is hard too, because Yuuri’s head is in the way, a shaggy mess of hair covering all of his face except for the edges of his blue frames. Victor can see the peek of a crisp white shirt collar just over the edge of Yuuri’s suit, and then Yuuri looks up and lets Victor’s cock fall out of his mouth and Victor has a heart attack.

“Yuuri, you’re so…” Yuuri is _so_ so many things, and Victor can’t pick just one. Yuuri meets his eyes and waits for a second, but Victor doesn’t come up with anything, so Yuuri just smirks a little and swallows Victor down again and anything Victor was about to say becomes a mess of consonants and grunts.

Once Victor gets too hard to comfortably swallow around, Yuuri starts bobbing his head, and one hand make a circle around the base of Victor’s cock and starts stroking him out of time. Victor shudders hard and braces his feet against the carpet of the stairway and jerks forward a little. Yuuri doesn’t seem to mind at all, and he uses his free hand to guide Victor’s other hand to his hair too. Once Victor curls his fingers around the back of Yuuri’s head, Yuuri squeezes his wrist and grips Victor’s hip again instead and rubs his tongue firmly against the underside of Victor’s cock. Victor chokes on a breath and doubles over a little, then pushes his hips out far from the wall so that he can see Yuuri better.

Yuuri’s cheeks are flushed from effort now instead of embarrassment, and his lips are a little chapped and spit-slicked, but his expression is still determined and he’s a little sweaty around the edges. His fingers get tighter around Victor’s cock the wetter they get from his own spit, occasionally reaching back to cup Victor’s balls and press into that space of skin behind them. Victor convulses a little and swallows hard, because there is only a door separating them from the rest of the hotel and it’s quite frankly amazing that no one has come down these stairs yet anyway. He doesn’t know how much he would mind if someone saw, but Yuuri would feel humiliated. Unless maybe he also felt some sort of possessive pleasure over someone seeing Victor being claimed, but Victor doesn’t have the time or the ability to ask that.

“Yuuri,” he croaks out, the only thing he’s really been able to say in the last five minutes. Yuuri’s eyes flicker upward, and then they drag all along Victor’s neck and chest, taking in the suit vest and the way Victor is arching that makes the buttons think about complaining. He moves his hand from Victor’s hip and slides it up under the vest, petting clumsily at Victor’s chest through his shirt. He scratches, which doesn’t hurt, but it makes a soft and slithery sound that reminds Victor how very _dressed up_ they both are and how he has to go speak to reporters in these clothes with cooling sweat on his lower back.

Yuuri pulls back and lets the head of Victor’s cock sit on his tongue for a moment, then lets it fall. “Victor,” he says, voice a little rough. “You only have a couple minutes. I know you can finish by then, can’t you?” Victor is about to say– something, God knows what, but then Yuuri gives him a loose, confident grin and opens his mouth. He jerks his head against Victor’s grip and there’s a challenge in his eyes, so Victor meets it.

He thrusts back into Yuuri’s mouth and feels more than hears Yuuri’s moan. He pulls at Yuuri’s hair and Yuuri scratches at his chest again. Now, Victor can clearly see the faint outline of an erection in Yuuri’s suit pants, and he purrs Yuuri’s name before moving one foot to nudge against it. Yuuri gasps sharply through his nose and shoves himself forward, making himself take as much of Victor as he can. His throat spasms a little and a hint of tears prick at the corners of his eyes, but he swallows around Victor and Victor feels the contraction and ripple of his muscles and he’s done for. He pulls back just a bit as he comes in Yuuri’s mouth, so that Yuuri doesn’t choke, but Yuuri swallows it all without batting an eye. He’s shaking a little, but he sucks Victor through it, breathing when he can and swallowing when he can’t, until Victor twitches against him and Yuuri pulls away. He kneels up and grabs Victor’s pocket square out of his jacket, then unfolds it and quickly wipes the saliva off of his mouth and Victor’s cock. Then he stands up, folds it into a square again, and tucks it back into Victor’s breast pocket, and then tucks Victor himself away and zips up his pants.

“You should go,” he murmurs as he rebuckles Victor’s belt. “It’ll be your turn soon.”

Victor nods vaguely, still floating.

Yuuri tucks the edge of the belt into the loop, then pats the front of Victor’s pants twice and smoothes the shoulders of his suit. “Go on.”

“What about you?” Victor manages to ask.

“I’ll be there,” Yuuri promises. “I’ll be watching you.”

He leans forward and kisses Victor one more time, open mouthed and wet. Victor tastes himself as Yuuri feeds him the flavor, tongue pressing into Victor’s mouth just long enough for Yuuri to feel Victor shudder, and then he steps back. Victor’s lips stay parted and he looks like he’s been hit by lightning, until Yuuri gently closes his mouth with two fingers and turns the handle of the stairwell door. As soon as he does, there’s clapping from across the hall, which only gets louder as Yuuri opens the door a few inches.

“That’s your cue,” Yuuri says. “Look for me.” He nudges Victor out the door and Victor glances around wildly, one hand smoothing down his hair, and then he stumbles across the hall and into the press conference room while the men’s singles medalists are having their pictures taken. Yuri is tiny between the other two, but he’s not glaring for once. Victor finds time to smile before a PA comes up to him, muttering _there you are_ and _about to start_ and drags him around the room by the elbow so she can switch out the name cards of the medalists with his.

Victor lets things happen around him and he feels fuzzy until he’s sitting down and there’s a journalist asking him about his planned comeback’s short program. He blinks a few times and licks his lips and tastes himself. He looks around the room at all of the people there and, in the very back, he spots Yuuri, leaning against the wall. They make eye contact for a moment.

Yuuri grins.

Victor blushes.

“I don’t know,” he says into the microphone. “I have the pieces together, I’m still working on the theme. But I think it may end up being ‘on my love’.”


End file.
